


Drive

by mhunter10



Series: Ma: Queen of the Castle [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Driving, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9175759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Mickey and mama on the way home from visiting Terry.





	

Mickey watched the all too familiar scenery go by through slightly blurry eyes. He didn’t dare sniff the snot back into his nose, but he could feel tears threatening to escape. He wasn’t a fucking baby. He didn’t even get like this when he was younger, but somehow something had gotten through today; his dad's words cutting right to his core because he knew how to get to him. The name calling and threats rolled off of him like the punches and kicks, but this was different. It hadn't even been directly about him...at least that's what Terry believed.

No, it was about a man his father and some of his buddies had beaten senseless one night. Nothing new. Terry was always clear about where he stood on kiddie touchers and frequently bragged about just how many of the creeps they'd taken care of, but this wasn’t that...not at all, although judging by his father's tone it was just as bad. Word had gotten around about what the man had been picked up for. He made it worse on himself by continuing his soliciting on the inside. One of his dad's men pretended to want him then the rest cornered him. Terry laughed, telling how much he screamed. Mickey had made the mistake of letting his face look horrified, and Terry sneered a warning at him.

But it wasn't just a warning, not just words. There was something in his eyes that made Mickey think he had told the tale of the faggot for a reason. He thought he was careful. He tried so hard. He suddenly felt trapped sitting there and he wasn't the one behind glass. They'd left soon after that and neither had said a word for a long time. That's what Terry did, made it so it took you a while to feel comfortable with him not even around. His mom always put on a brave face, though, and Mickey did the same most days.

He sniffed. It was an accident. Before he can stop them, tears spill over and down his cheeks. There's three more Sundays until his dad is out again and can make good on his unspoken promise. He chokes.

Kathleen looks over then back at the road, then over again at her son, leaning forward to get a look at his face. All the tightness in her chest from trying to keep her own emotions inside turned to anger at the man she married and concern for her son.

"Shit, sugar," she sighs. "Dammit." Her curse is heated out of frustration. She looks over at Mickey again, who's rubbing at his blue eyes and looking mad as hell at himself. She keeps driving but searches around for a tissue or something. Finally she pulls a napkin out of her purse that's smeared with makeup and soft from use. She presses it into his hand anyway.

Mickey looks down at it for a second then finds a clean enough corner to wipe his face with. He rubs his nose with it and it smells like her foundation. She rarely wore makeup except when they were at home or she went out with her girlfriends or something. Terry always told her she looked like a clown with all the crap on her face. He would laugh and say the local hookers could teach her, so she probably tried to get most of it off before seeing him. Mickey remembers getting smacked when he was caught playing with her brushes. He hadn’t been trying to where the stupid stuff, he just liked how soft they felt on his face. When he looked in the mirror after he couldn’t tell if it was blush or a bruise.

He takes a few deep breaths and squeezes the napkin in his fist. The car is subtly swerving in the lane.

"Look at the fucking road," he grits, needing to be angry at something so he wouldn't feel so fucking scared.

Kathleen turns the wheel away from the double lines and looks ahead for about five whole seconds. She looks back at Mickey. He's biting his lip. He’s missed a small tear just under his bottom lashes. She pulls off the road into a gas station, a car honking behind them and Mickey glaring at her. She stops at a pump and turns the car off, then digs in her purse and takes out a crumpled up ten and three ones. She reaches over and turns Mickey’s chin to her, looking in his eyes for the monster behind that glass. She swipes the tear away with her thumb.

"I don't care what it is, I'm not gonna let him lay a finger on you for it. Okay?" She thinks she knows. She's got an idea, but it could be anything really. There's no magic 8-ball answer or formula, no definitive signs. All she has is a feeling and maybe someday her son's willing words, but she doesn't expect to ever hear them in their house...alone or not. But in the meantime, she can do what she does know.

"You're my baby, alright?"

Mickey rolls his eyes, pulling his chin away. "I'm eighteen, ma."

Kathleen scoffs and pats his knee, tossing him the money.

"You so grown, put eleven in the tank and get us some twinkies."

Mickey sucked his teeth, but did as he was told, pocketing his mom's napkin and her promise.


End file.
